What kind of animal would I be?

by Lerk                 

I'd be a Grizzly Bear, with a limp 
cute and cuddly-looking 
until you crossed too close 
then, wham! off flies your head 
in a southerly direction 
while your body still points North                 

I'd be a Grizzly Bear, with a limp 
all furry and sweet and nice 
until you spammed or threatened me 
then you'd better book 
while you still have feet. 
the last pair hang on my mantle.                 

I'd be a Grizzly Bear, with a limp 
just to be fair, the gait 
would give a moment's head start 
to give both you and I a chance 
to reconsider your approaching doom.                 

Lerk 
(non-rhyming poems are, oddly, harder for me.)                

Basically I just wanted to write a villanelle, so I didn't give a shit if the content was crappy as long as I jammed it into the proper form.

A Modified Villanelle on My Favorite Passtime

It’s hard not to drink when you don’t give a shit
about the trials and troubles that plague you all day;
I say, what the hell, let’s go out and get lit.

Man’s harsh lot in life is starkly backlit
by the world’s indifference, or so they say, but
It’s hard not to drink when you don’t give a shit.

Bills and pills and violent ills can prompt a screaming fit
but only if you let them in your head and in your way
I say, what the hell, let’s go out and get lit.

Wars and hate and death are complicated; to wit,
That world’s not black and white, but all shades of gray, yet
It’s hard to not to drink when you don’t give a shit.

The man beats you down and makes you want to quit
but despite his assaults I feel winsome and gay, so
I say, what the hell, let’s go out and get lit.

If stress and duress control your life, observe this holy writ;
The only things that hurt you are the things that you say may.
It’s hard not to drink when you don’t give a shit;
I say, what the hell, let’s go out and get lit.

"Childhood Friends"

Along the path of the dappled times of our past,
I remember.
Like a watchful child,
I stepped around cracks,
to insure you would be fine.
I crossed my fingers and my toes
to make sure all the luck would fall upon only you.
I kissed frogs to see if they would turn into princes
so you could find your soulmate along beside me.
I dreamed of the double wedding we would have
when we both were thrown into the married life.
But like most of a child's dreams,
not all of them come true.
Along the path of the dappled times of our past,
I forgot that you left me.

Haiku

Remove spines and tongues
basic damned souls management
practice on Bluecross

Haiku

Difficult to write
With the squirming and yelling
I can't concentrate

Night Owl has been a busy bird,
Coz that is his way,
He's been visiting his local M.D.,
That's his task today.
He went for a yearly check up,
Two years overdue,
It's something that we all put off,
It's something we all do.
So, our brave little avarian friend,
Was not being very slack,
He was off to see another feathered friend,
In the guise of a quack.
However, I stray from my intended point,
The purpose of this verse,
Is to highlight what happens at the doctor's,
When he's a bit perverse.                                                    

Our hero enters the surgery,
And into the consultation room,
The doctor gives him an evil glance,
That fills the Owl with doom.
The doctor does the check up,
His tongue began its wags,
"You'd be a lot healthier if,
You'd stop having those fags."                                                    

After a moment's brief hesitation,
Night Owl punched him in the face,
He wasn't putting up with that nonsense,
He put him in his place.
Not that he was really offended,
It mattered to him not,
But as far as he was then concerned,
the doctor deserved all he got.                                                    

As Night Owl left the surgery,
And grabbed his keys from the shelf,
He muttered to the doctor,
"Physician, heal thyself."                                                    

Cheers from the Land of Oz                                                   

(and boy, it's good to be back)

Unplugged Again
I'm wandering through my house
Looking at a flowerpot sitting in a pool of sunlight
The daffodil, fragile and happy, unaware of pain or loss
Serene in it's life, yet unaware of serenity

I wander over soft carpets , my cold and tired
Windy's left her jacket out, the cashmere is still warm
She doesn't see the things I do, innocent and pure
Peaceful in her life, yet unaware of her tranquility

I walk down the hall to my bedroom, fingers touching the wall
My husband Henry lies sleeping, strong arms folded over him
The dim light outlines his features, twisted in pain and triumph
He has won the prize, yet is unaware of his victory

With a sigh, I return to the kitchen, glancing at the TV
A blank-eyed newscaster spews bites of news at me
My eyes seek out my baby, Dana in her crib, so innocent
Pure in her gentle sleep, yet unaware of that purity

I wonder often if I am worthy of the friends I have
The things I do bother me, and yet they remain still
I feel empty, cold, angry, and still inside but still hard
I continue on in life, but am I missing something too?

"An Untitled Scrap of Affection"

If my love were a liquid,
No goblet could hold
The amount of it i feel for you

If my heart were a coin,
Made of simple gold
You'd own it, though such coins be few

If my heart were a bird,
Your love would be the nicest cage
Into which ever a bird willingly flew

And if my love were flowers,
You'd get endless bouquets from me
Made of the feelings i have for you

But my love is not liquid,
So easily spilt from its glass
And my love is not flowers,
So often choked by the grass
My love is not coins,
Passed oft between hands
And my love is not a bird,
Caught flying off to other lands

No, my love is more like the sun,
For you it shall forever shine
My heart shall always be yours,
And yours shall alawys be mine

Poems made at UNI take a while to be brought to you all. So here is the latest batch. uhm. Yeah.

I hope someone enjoys them!

---

Working Title: Dunes of Sorrow

cover white with snow
silent fall on dunes of sorrow
Inspire gentle thoughts in hearts of men

together yet again we travel
throughout the drifts of unconsciousness

Me, and my bride of loathing
...on the dunes of sorrow
I weep silently for you.

Haiku

No paper in hell
Foolish Slack, foolish Satan
Skins of damned work great

Instant Messenger

 In the bath, hot water steams
I trace letters on the glass;

Nothing fancy, nothing special
No Wasteland nor Leaves of Grass.

Will you notice in the morning,
My love's return, my sign?

Will you then treat me sweetly,
Or accuse me of a crime?

Um...a poem or something..."
Really I have nothing to say, I was just bored and felt like posting.

Recycle thoughts,
use them again.
Make them unique,
distinct, special,
cause that is the thing to do.
Use old things,
make them new.
Polished, brilliant,
the better to impress.

Hmm....While trying to think of something to write, the first word that popped in my head was Recycle...so I went with it. *shrug*

Poetry

A friend of mine who goes by Doombot
Has a job she likes...I really think not

This job of hers, it really didn't thrill her
And in the end, this job, would most likely kill her

She knew herself she just couldn't take it
And one day soon, she might not make it

Then, one day, sharp knife in one hand
She went to make a blood red wrist band

The thought of her friends, her sis came to mind
Again the will to live and survive she did find.

And then on the net, she came to the village
Advice from her friends she had planned to pillage

And so I write this, conveying my feelings
To tell her my thoughts of the wheelings and dealings

Get away from it, Doomsie, dump it and make a new start
On the perfect dream job, the one close to yer heart

What happens after you've quit, I can't say, I dunno
All I know is you gotta get outta this low

The Village loves you doomsie, no matter what you do.
We'll do what we can to look after you

I wish you the best now. Go out and live life.
But never, never ever fall under that knife.

Time

As I sit here warm and shivering, 
I am gnawed at by a machine, 
It is not the device I sit before, 
But rather the device that sits within me, 
Infinitely complex this device may be, 
The greatest of minds cannot unlock it's secrets, 
The machine, 
The horrid machine I speak of is time,                       

Unstoppable as the morning's rise, 
Unfearable as the air you breath, 
It exists between the quick, 
The thumb and forefinger of your mind, 
It cannot be changed, 
It cannot be understood, 
It can't be placated, 
It merely sits there chewing on our soul,                       

The gears they slowly turn, 
The sand slowly burns, 
As it withers through the hole, 
In the hourglass,                       

It comes to me at all my moments, 
It helps me cherish them, 
And fear them, 
It is there when I dream my life away, 
It is there when I sit with my friends, 
It makes a mockery of me, 
It makes a martyr of me,                       

It conceals who I am from me, 
My blood is not my own, 
My ancestors are unknown, 
My begins hidden from me, 
By time,                       

My future it alone holds, 
My present it makes bold, 
Yet there is little I can do, 
Time has made many things,                       

It is the difference between, 
This poem being of pen and ink, 
This poem being of electron and magnetic field, 
This poem being of photons, 
This poem being of thought,                       

It shows me things in the mists of itself, 
It taunts me with dreams, 
It makes my heart cry with fear, 
And joy, 
And sadness, 
And many things that I hold dear,                       

Who are you I cry, 
To the phantom woman in my dreams, 
Who are you I say, 
To the phantom grandparents I've never seen, 
Who are you I sob, 
To the children dancing before me, 
"WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO ME ?", 
I scream,                       

It rolls, 
It crawls and tumbles, 
Unstopping, 
Unfearing, 
I am not ready for it's gifts to me,                       

I cannot bear the weight I scream, 
But the universe, 
Time, 
Does not hear me,                       

"Where do I fit ?, what role do I play ?", 
I scream out in the dark, 
I have no light to see, 
Yet I fear the light, 
For the truth it brings,                       

"Am I to be special ?, Am I to be normal ?", 
I beg, 
I plead, 
I ask,                       

It's answer unheard, 
My cries unanswered, 
If I am to be special ?, 
What am I to do ?,                       

If I am to be normal, 
What was this pain for ?                       

This poem makes three, 
My heart has cried before, 
Self-lothing, 
Pride, 
Now fear takes it's turn at my door, 
Of all these things, 
Why is mine to be pain, 
Why is mine to be fear, 
When do I get joy ?  

Yeah. I wrote a poem today.

Originally i was thinking of putting a EULA here before you read it. But since thats silly, and goes against the nature of poetry in general, i wont!

So feel free to jump to any conclusions you like, or interprit it and analyze it as you normally would or wouldn't.

:)

"The Title for this Poem Is a Secret."

She walked inside the room,
Hah! I thought I was strong
When I gazed upon her,
I knew I was wrong.
Not that I care anymore.

She wore a dress of pure autumn like it was spring,
all redbrown and yellow, and all
I could think of was her.

She sat down beside me and greeted as if
all was alright with the world.

When she turns around, I am paralyzed.

She brought an extra day of spring to me,
as some sort of sign. Like a polar and early
lucia.

Inside I feel happy and floaty.

--- Hm. My muse supplied me with this last part just now. Treat it as you wish. ---

Now I sit here and think of the past
Of the conversations we've had.
Admitedly not very many,
and not too far in betwene
And always we were somewhere else.
With someoneelse doing the talking.
Amusing what life can acomplish.

I smile to myself when I think of the time...
And think, maybe I shall in the future.

- Alderach. 7dec 2004.

(:  

Haiku

Satan is my bud
We'd write haiku together
But the paper burns

Firstly, welcome to the Unwahsed clan,
I have been quite remiss,
If I have not welcomed you before,
The official welcome's this.                                                    

Thank-you Sheelagh for your post,
About your Unwashed story,
No doubt it's full of Unwashed sheenanigans,
And exploits of wonderous glory.
You need to send it to Lerk,
Do it fast - tonight,
Also send a copy off to Jay,
For he updates his site.                                                    

Just a few things before I go,
They're gnawing at my brain,
Could you enlighten me on the subject,
Of the origin of your name?
It's not that I'm a nosy type,
Don't get overly furious,
It's just that I'm the inquisitive type,
Seemingly always curious.                                                    

The last thing before I go,
Deals with a new member trick,
Have you yet had your appointment with,
The Unwahsed Pointy Stick?                                                    

Cheers from the Land of Oz

When you're gone
I feel so small
I'm nothing
Without you
And everything
With

Don't take the light
From my eyes
Don't let me fall
Into dispair
Just
Hold me

Torn
In two by feelings I
Can't or won't control
Now I feel worn

Sick
Inside from longing
Or simple lonliness
What a low trick

Pain
In my heart and soul
It never really stops
Nothing to gain


I ache for thee
Where are you , today
I can't find you , baby
You're always away
Going here, or over there
Always away from home
Where is your love and care
Why'd you leave me alone?

Torn
Torn right in half
Between need and want
On a cold morn

Torn
Torn like paper
Between two loves
Oh, I'm so worn.

Haiku

QUOTE (SlackerBoy @ Nov 10 2004, 08:11 AM)

Unruly haiku Raging against the machine Those nuns deserved worse.

(awards first place prize
to the above haiku that
was big time awesome)

*grin*

-----------
I’m New

Unspoiled
Polished
A penny with no rust

Clever
Reflective
Put in me your trust

Always
Constant
Tread upon the ledge

Delusions
Disasters
Tumble off the edge

Secluded
Despairing
Help me find the way

Hoping
Yearning
Not alone one day

--------------
ever and always
Me

"ambition (disjointed)"

if you give me that much diet pepsi
i can drink it all
and by i can
i mean i will

everytime it strikes me that i have a power
i just can't resist
and by that
i mean i must

try, try, try

now in my little garden with the wool ghosts
i wrap the threads around my arms
because i can
and by i can
i mean i will

restrain, restrain, restrain

myself
i can tame it all
i can fight it all
i can win it all
i can kill it all
i can calm it all
and by i can
i mean i must

the world is mine, is mine, is mine.

the end! really. yeah, they all start with a. no, i'm not sure why.

Ah!
Wait!
First one i writ today didn't start with a, so i forgot it when posting originally. Here's that one too. (ooh aah)

He calls himself Count Zero Interrupt ,
And he cornered the barmaid and felt her up ,
"I need the menu for beer ,
So bend over, my dear" ,
The light here's so poor I can't read enough...

SIE312
aka
Junkyard Dog
aka
Mark

"Sickly Morning"

(authours note: two lintballs in one day...my brain hurts. =P)
"Sickly Morning"
It may be a gain, but it feels more like a betrayal
Oh love, oh love, oh lover
Don't do this to me, I am not your angel, i am not
Made of pure light, you cannot trap me in a box,
My heart has bled red over the ground at my feet,
Has soaked the ground until i'm squishing in it,
I'm knee deep in sickly red earth,
Going back to the Red Earth from which i came.

You tell me this is the road to Heaven the path of
Light, Light, Light me up love
Let the flames cover me, let them swallow me, i am not
Composed of clearly cut lines, not put together as cleanly
As one might like or expect, and my tears are falling
Falling salty blue green over the world, like my eyes
Turned liquid and fallen from their sockets, spread out
Like an ocean whose waves lap at the shores of your heart,
Whose barren cliffs shut my tears out.

I am not a statue of gold, I will not be your false idol
I am frozen terrified on the pedestal, which is cracking,
Breaking, crumbling beneath my paralyzed feet,
Slivers of marble just falling, curled, bubbling, sizzling
In drips of acid that are really only your soul pouring from
Your flesh and onto the platform where you placed me,
A bride far too early on a wedding cake that has gone eternally
Uneaten, Not a marriage of people, not a marriage of earthly flesh
But a ceremony that tangled your tortured heartstrings with mine.

Hold me now in the early morning moments, before you awake
In entirety, before you begin again on your rants of my lack of
Direction in my life, on how Utterly Amazing i could be
Be with me just now and love me not for what i might achieve,
But for who i am now--It is the person i have always been,
It is the girl that i will always be
Wait here until the sun dawns on us, dripping gold across our too
Pale bodies, painting us bronze and dispelling the shadows that
Run jagged across my walls, dancing and laughing and reminding one
Of goblins, of monsters, of things we were taught to forget

And after that, after the sun has kissed us both one more time
You may stand up, you may cross the room,
And you may leave, as you had planned.

Unknown date, still 2004 though. By Alderach (who else?)
(lets see if the board accepts my attemp at formatting this poem..)

Panic
In the circular room
together with uncertain
people (I fail) to ponder
logic. Alltogether my mind
Trully embrased by the
possiblity of not failure but
comedically synonym type likeness
Afraid of the now suddenly uncertain
future. In the end my poem is triangular
Back / to whatever happens
Ill surive somehow.

(well, it was triangular when I wrote it on paper..)

Haiku

Flipping off those nuns
Starting haiku posting threads
Satan sends congrats

Haiku haiku high
Haiku haiku haiku high
Haiku haiku duck

You find me
a bloody mess
upon the ground
a heap
of rags and meat,
a soul
bled forth
beyond control,
as I cringe
awaiting wrath,
love is a bloody
path,
you saw how men
died, for a Grecian bride,
and the gods laughed,
because we made them so,
and left ourselves
only one place
for the flow...
Do you ever
see the stars
for what they
are?
A reminder
of how simple
we really are.
Do you ever feel
out of place,
trapped in
a different
time
and place,
do you ever
want to leave
the world
as we perceive,
do you ever
think
maybe I'll meet
a god someday,
or will you
fade away,
like all the
greats
who never
met a simple
man like we...
Do you ever
see the sun,
and think
Is that all
a star is?
Will I never
see the feet
of god?
Will I never
be a soul free,
am I trapped
eternally,
within this
blood filled
bag of bones,
will I ever
get to go home?
Will somebody
answer that goddamn
phone,
or will it ring
incessantly,
until I break
down and leave
my reverie
because,
it seems to me,
I think to much,
unhealthily,
and flee what
ever it is
I don't want
to see
in the mirror
it is me.

Looking back I see a girl
Mischief twinkled in her eye
Gazed upon a handsome face
Her innocence would slide

Time went by, things had changed
Yet, still in thought he stayed
Then one day she saw his name
Somehow a path before her lay

They talked for hours, catching up
On all the years gone by
Her world so different from what it was
She breathed a heavy sigh

It all came rushing back to her
One small moment in time
She remembered when their skin once touched
And her body came alive

She didn't understand what happened
Young, naive and blind
She wanted just to kiss those lips
Feel those arms entwined..

But, that was just one moment
and that little girls' now grown
She had to face reality
They could never be alone

Fantasies are what dreams are made of
Just don't try to make them real
She knew that if she let him,
It's her heart that he would steal

The dreams were very vivid
She woke smiling, and quite flushed
She knew that it would never happen
Her heart, no longer did she trust

Temptress

She wielded the unholy fire,
In her red lips...
I wanted to kiss them,
And let an inferno enrapture me...
But alas,
Her intent was not to hurt,
But it happened to me,
Anyway...
I tried to be nice...
I bought her gifts...
But I was played like a piano,
And discarded among the rest,
Of her followers...
Can I be next in line?
Am I setting my self,
To fall again?
I am unappreciated,
And I thought she would,
Understand my actions...
But I was discarded among the rest,
Of her minions...
The love she gave was fickle,
And spread sporatically,
To her followers...
I wish she'd get off of her throne...
I wish I could touch her...
I wish...she would love me...

Truth

Okay, so, I had to turn in a poem by noon today, and I was fucking wasted last night and I couldn't come up with shit, and then I woke up today and checked to see what I'd e-mailed my professor and this is what it was. I was gonna e-mail a different one and ask that we workshop that one in class but then I checked the class's website and he'd already posted it to be workshopped tomorrow. I mean, I dunno, maybe it's not totally terrible, but I can't believe I submitted it. Alas!Truth Metaphors are for fucking pussies.
I can’t respect anyone
who can’t deal with the shank that is life
slamming into you as you try to eat breakfast
right between your third and fourth rib

Unless you’re in a good mood
then it stabs up into your nostril
past the cartilage and soft tissue
burning past thoughts and feelings
and tiny ruby drops of blood that slip down

A really nice metaphor is the best orgasm
that ever blew your mind while you were
getting drunk and getting high and cutting
yourself as you contemplated
how much you mattered to the universe

Dated to: 18 november, 2004. Alderach.....

Lalala, im happy it's snowed!
Tonight, today.
laughter, and rejoicing to this
worldy phenonoma.

Always smiling at the
wonderfullness of all.

Overwhelming conversations in a corridor
building future opinions on facts
of the present in my colourfull
cardigan, electrical tubing
encompasses the hallway in
its own sprecial kind of metiallic
shell. Again my poems exist not so
much as a ramle of words
to be analyzed, moreso
fragments of my emotions
and thoughts.
happily i continue my smile and
dream of what will and might happen tommorow.

Haiku

Unruly haiku
Raging against the machine
Those nuns deserved worse.

Inspiration

I spent years in
Isolation
Sheding tears in
Desperation
Took me out of
Desolation
You're my
Inspiration

On the brink of
Devastation
In a sea of
Frustration
Coming out of
Separation
You're my
Inspiration

In a shape of
Deformation
My head in need of
Modification
Got to get back my
Imagination
You're my
Inspiration

Saved me from my
Moderation
Gave me back my
Motivation
Got me wrapped in
Exaltation
You're my
Inspiration

Haiku

Photosynthesis;
unlimited nutrition,
dirty dishes? None.

To beer; heavenly
cause of and solution to
all of life's problems

QUOTE (lara @ Nov 10 2004, 12:13 AM)

Slackerboy is strict He writes a mean haiku though This one's a tribute

His haiku lately
caused a stir by flipping off
those busloads of nuns

I read with some growing anger,
Your bitter post just now,
I can relate to what you're saying,
It always amazes me how,
There are people in this world,
Aholes was your given name,
They criticise those around them,
To them it's just a game.
Further down I see words from Lerk,
Full of positivism,
I love the way he summed it up with,
"Creativitiy's stronger than criticism".
So, soldier on with your plan,
Let joy fill your eyes,
For those that can, do it,
While those that can't criticise.     

Maybe it's the sky.
Maybe it's the moon.
Maybe it's because I
tend to be shy,
but I can't help
but feel separated
from the emotions
I hear scratching
at my door.
I was with you
on the floor
of a decrepit mind,
but we didn't care,
all we did was hold
each other, and breath
waiting for time
to leave,
I'm still here,
but you've gone
away
to play
one day,
I might see
your face again,
not in dream
but in reality;
I'll think, whatever
did I see in us,
whatever did I imagine,
to replace what was
concretely unfathomable,
a simple rose,
tried to stand
in a hurricane,
but the tempest
tore me to shreds
and I am now
nothing but
a pale reflection
of oil in water
twisted, self-absorbed
and multi-faceted
by choice,
but lacking
something others
know as love,
which I don't
share with anyone
because
I tend to
hide behind
a facade,
a barricade
of stone,
a twisted
metaphor
calling me
home,
with the angels
subliminal,
terminally
enthroned
in a hidden
world of magic
and myth
as well as
blood
and bone,
and I always
seem to be
alone.

Prospice

Fear death?-to feel the fog in my throat,
The mist in my face,
When the snows begin, and blasts denote
I am nearing the place,
The power of night, the press of the storm,
The post of the foe;
Where he stands, the Arch Fear in visible form,
Yet the strong man must go:
For the journey is done and the summit attained,
And the barriers fall,
Though a battle's to fight ere the guerdon be gained,
The reward of it all.
I was ever the fighter, so--one fight more,
The best and the last!
I would hate that death bandaged my eyes, and forebore,
And bade me creep past.
No!let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers
The heros of old,
Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad lifes arrears
Of pain, darkness and cold.
For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave,
The black minute's at end,
And the element's rage, the fiend-voices that rave,
Shall dwindle, shall bend,
Shall change, shall become first a peace out of pain,
Then a light, then thy breast,
O thou soul of my soul! I shal clasp thee again,
And with god be the rest!

Robert Browning

Darkness

I sit here in the dark, 
I walk here in the dark, 
In dark and lonely halls you will find, 
Me,                       

The darkness is in my own heart, 
But not just in my heart, 
My eyes have seen the, 
Dark,                       

I sit here and drink this cold fluid, 
It courses through my veins, 
Their sewers,                       

I am chilled to the core, 
But is it me or is it more ? 
It's more,                       

There is no light down here, 
The non-existent sun shines no more for, 
Me,                       

My hands shake with pain, 
My eyes are filled with flame, 
My soul casts no light, 
Not here, 
Not light,                       

What is it inside me that broke ? 
I'm frantic with this feeling, 
The voices say it's depression I'm feeling, 
Yet it's me that's screaming,                       

I shiver with the coldness of the dark, 
It's got me gone on a lark, 
My mind has gone, 
My song's done         

Haiku

Freeform poems are quick
They don't even have to rhyme
Structure is useful.

I can put words here
Or I can scatter them there
I prefer not to.
-----

The invader waits
For his robot to finish
eating the tacos

Chocolate cupcake
in place of the guidance chip
Quite throughly lost

Silent sentries stand
with pointed hats and lasers
in the doomed front yard

As I sit here and contemplate my belly button
It occurs to me that things are strange
Strange that I sit here
And contemplate
Like a pause in my life
A pause that has no meaning
No deep or grand thought
Just to sit here
And contemplate
My belly button

During this moment I am free
No weight on my shoulders
No stress causing facts
Just contemplation
Pure and simple

As I sit back and relax
A deep down sigh
I contemplate

"again"

every poem i ever wrote
started with the letter a
you must be mistaken
i never spoke english
it was just a clever translation
at best

can you bare a witness?
would you like to share
my thisness?

learn the language of the mad
beneath my skin it's written
if you really want to see it
then i bet i can make you believe
victory, that's what they called me

in another tongue
in another land
i will be like this

again, again, again
the letters will happen again
and i will forget again
and you'll laugh to think
that i don't understand
and i swear

i'll never speak your english
i've never spoken your english
i'll never speak your english
i've never known your language
never again

"I, Samurai"

Lay down my life, before I lay down my sword
Lay down my life, before that of my friends'
I bare my soul to protect, to serve those I love
I bare my soul, for this world, for all

I am Samurai.

"A Dissertation on Love"

(Authour's Note: Almost qualifies as Not depressing, a breakthrough for me! =) Thanks to Buffy, whose poem down lower got me thinking about love and inspired me to write something. *HUGS*)
"A Dissertation on Love"

I can't say that love's a sham
Cuz i can't forget who I am
And what has shaped, made me whole,
Broken me down, and stolen my soul.

Love can be bright, dismal or grey
Can be dark like night, or light like day
Serious or silly, happy or sad
Tragic and painful; Gentle and glad

It is something to live for; No, something to hate
Something to die for; No, for it is too great
But whichever way turned, love is always there
Like a gift from the gods, or knots in your hair

I cannot say that love does not exist,
And i can't say that love never does twist
Into something unpleasant, or something so clear
Love is just love, it is nothing to fear

So as your heart bleeds, or as the birds sing
Remember always this one little thing:
Love cannot die, love will never cease to be
But just like Life, the good parts never come for free
Love has a balance just like every part of life
Each ounce of joy is countered by an ounce of strife
But that little joy is worth far more than the hurt:
Love what you can, for all the joy that it's worth

Dated to: 9 november 2004, still by Alderach.
*translated at the best of my abbilities*

Low shadow on brownblack leafs
I'm nurtured by an prominent wish
that to totally unspoiled
find a place
within my beloved's heart

But who my beloved is
where she has her home sweet home.
Is so unclear to me
as seasons for the sun
and a desolate squeaky gate.
Together with lonelyness
I endure dangers and
prosperity alike.
Alone I now sit, confounded
body frozen from top to bottom
Always out there, amongst the
beautiful.
What should I do now?

Haiku

Slackerboy is strict
He writes a mean haiku though
This one's a tribute

Unwashed Beverage, Anyone?

The Unwashed are a varied group,
Their tastes are all perfected,
But I surveyed them on their liquid preferences,
And here's what they selected:                                                    

Wraith responded with Hill's Brother's Columbian,
Night Owl chipped in with a hoot,
That he liked a good, strong Columbian,
Mind you, nothing cute.
Dan Wood identified black French roast,
As long as it's armour thick,
Doom wanted Iced Mocha Frappuccino,
To go with the Pointy Stick.                                                    

Amish Commando caused me concern,
With his choice of brew,
It's supposed to be really good,
If it doesn't kill you.
You get a big styrofoam cup,
Then with teaspoons numbering eight,
You ladle in the coffee grounds,
Sounds good - I can't wait!
Then you add eight chocolate scoops,
You it will awake,
That or admit you to hospital,
Then your heart they'll take.                                                    

Mech chipped in with bottled Frappuccino,
(Doom likes that one too.)
Linus nominated Jolt as one,
Or a Mountain Dew.
Yauser Boss didn't want coffee at all,
One of a small group,
The Enlightened One is yet another,
Preferring Campbell's Tomato Soup!                                                    

Why this morbid beverage fascination,
With our humble tribe?
What use could this information be,
To a humble scribe?
Well, those that identified coffee,
And a particular brand,
Shows that they have a direction in life,
And that it's close at hand.
Amish worried me with his recipe,
But I think it is befitting,
That you can get all the food groups conveniently,
In one drink at one sitting.
Those that didn't want any coffee,
Their point made with noise,
Showed that they can think independently,
To exercise their right of choice.
Enlightened One at first through me,
He's outside the neighbourhood,
But then I realised he follows things hearty,
Things wholesome and  good.                                                    

Cheers from the Land of Oz

Pumpkintime

Looking at the ember mountains
I have thoughts of pumpkins at sunset
on the road to the ocean.

Autumn orange shining in the fields
like the fresh ikura I would steal
from you at dinner, to enjoy your pouting taste.

Offshore breeze in my face, driving fast
You were my companion
navigator of sharp tongue and soft lips.

But night has fallen on me
beneath telephone wires and tree branches
Alone to find the way by starlight.

Untitled Journey

Well, I left my sense of humor
With a jester in the city
He said "Man, you ain't funny"
"Frankly it's a pity"

Well, I left my happy smile
With a hermit by the roadside
He said "Man, you're all alone"
"There's no place you can hide"

Well, I left my hope and my faith
With a preacher at a mission
He said "Man, noone believes"
"It's a bad position"

Then I met a beautiful girl
While walking through the wasteland
She said "Babe, your life ain't bad"
"Just let me take your hand"

And I walked back to that preacher
Who was praying at the mission
I said "Man, now I believe"
"Not a bad position"

And I walked back to that hermit
Being lonely by the roadside
I said "Man, I got someone"
"I don't need to go hide"

And I walked back to that jester
Being funny in the city
I said "Man, you just can't see"
"I think it's a pity"

Why does Lerk talk to trees

by Lerk                 

because trees are very old 
and trees are very wise 
They never catch a cold 
or brag about their size

Love

I've got to write quite a few for one of my classes this year, I'll probably post 'em here, why the fuck not, right?

Love

Love is kinda like a milk bone
‘cause it hardly costs you anything
but when you give it to someone they get so excited
and you can see their little tail wag so fast
and sometimes they pee on the rug
Well, maybe that’s just puppies

On second thought, love is kinda like
Riding on a rollercoaster
‘cause you’re excited and afraid about what happens next
and sometimes you throw up cotton candy and popcorn everywhere
No, that’s no good either
Man, what the hell is wrong with me

Maybe it’s more like a bowl full of flowers
that light up a room and smell like spring
and get into my nose and make me sneeze constantly
‘cause I forgot to take my Claritin again god damn it
Okay, these girly metaphors aren’t working out
Let’s try something different, I swear it’ll be better

Love is like fighting flesh-eating zombies
‘cause it’s totally awesome and you feel like the man
and you save the girl and live happily ever after
‘cept as the credits roll she bites your neck or something
and you know it’s all going straight to hell
No, that’s no good either, scratch that, one more try

Love is just like a fast food cheeseburger
‘cause it costs about two dollars and might give you a disease
Oh Jesus, never mind, this stanza only gets three lines

I guess love’s kinda like this poem
‘cause I think it’s sorta awesome
but mainly retarded
Just kidding! Don’t kill me!
Man, this poem’s in a rut
I guess love’s sorta like getting kicked in the-

"Pain"

It's the pain i feel again,
that throbbing that tears itself
through my veins
and erupts into that self-pity
in the depths of my heart.

It's the pulsing in my head
that comes to me so often
now that u've left me.

it's the dreams that haunt me
every moment i'm awake
that keep me hidden from myself.

it's the painful reminder
that i see etched on every wall,
every flat surface, every day
that makes me remember,
that it was u that killed my soul.

Haiku

do not constrain me,
with your arbitrary rules,
freeform is better

forego the cow meat
It is full of nasty things
eat the tasty fish

wind blowing softly,
stars bleeding through atmosphere,
moonlight dapples earth

"another"

in another tongue
in another land

will you make love to the idea
of making me love you again?

drink another toast to the
prolongation of this ghost

in another tongue
in another land

oh,
we'll make it different
oh,
we'll do it again
oh,
we'll fix it this time
oh,
we'll do it again
oh,
we'll make it perfect
oh,
we'll do it again

we will fuck it up
we will do it all again

i will fall at your command
i will fuck it up again

in another tongue
in another land

The War in Heaven
Long ago, there was a place

A place of peace, and enjoyment
Where all could relax and laugh
And not take the world so seriously

The world , of course, did not like this
Suffering and confusion are it's likes
(and running out of beer)

So it went out and caused stress
And sent the pain of the world into the place
And there was strife and war

The legends are just that
For I know not what transpired
Nor do I care, in truth

As time passes, things crumble
Some go gently, like old bronze
Other burn brightly into ash

The place would not do so
Though it's building changed
The spirit remained

But was it the same spirit?
Or was it a dreaming memory
No one was quite sure

And then the angels fell
And strife rocked the place again
Anger, hurt, names, and arguing

Those new to the place were lost
Confused by the seething passions
Wondering if this was where they wanted to be

Others, older and wiser in the ways of the place
Decried against such arguing
Tried to stop the violence

One of them raised up his voice
A Paladin, bright and pure
Attempting to calm all involved

Against him was a figure in black
Cold and filled with an old memory
No less true, but with hideous strength

There were those in the place who asked for peace
And those who said they should leave again
And those who tried to laugh away the pain

The youngest of the members of the place
Looked around in despair and sorrow
At the wreckage of so much ... hate

There is a place for hatred and old wounds
There is a time for bringing up the problems
No one is perfect, neither are we good
We are all flawed, but so are diamonds
We are all imperfect, but so is gold
We are all, at time, immature, but so is a baby
We are all overwhelmed by the outside world
Who is not?

But let us not defile this place with that
Let us go forth, together, against THAT HATE
AND REMEMBER THAT WE ARE UNWASHED.

Now, then, forever, together. Unwashed. Fight the soap.

Night Owl, my friend, my only disciple,
You are a perceptive seer,
I enjoyed the way you mentioned,
The people I hold dear.
Your story was a work of art,
An enjoyable story well told,
You even worked in The Poetry Bastards,
An that was truly bold.                                                    

But being a PB has its down sides,
This you must know well,
For our irreverence and outspokeness,
Will land the group in Hell.
I see with interest down the page,
That Shadow's in this business,
You offered to bring us both a beer,
And he will bring the Guiness.
This sounds like quite a laugh,
The stuff of all good dreams,
But, restrain those rampant equines,
For it's not all that it seems.                                                    

The ale in Hell cannot be good,
That would defeat the purpose,
To get an ale you must buy it,
With no money for the purchase.
To buy a beer you must pay,
For it using "in kind",
It involves a ten foot demon,
And your pasty behind.
Then when you've scored some cash,
You go up to the bar,
You're surrounded by mobs of tourists,
Who've travelled in their car,
For days and days to get to Hell,
To them you must talk,
They are the only patrons there,
And out you cannot walk.
The barman sneers at your request,
A look that is contrite,
He sneers again and says to you,
"All we've got is Super Lite."
With sorrow you stare at your beer,
It's far from heaven sent,
The alcoholic content approximates,
One hundredth of one percent.
There's no head upon this brew,
The Devil's seen to that,
He's made it a tepid temperature too,
As well as being flat.
You smile grimly and take a swig,
The glass it gives you cuts,
You need something to go with this,
But the barman's taken the nuts.                                                    

So, my fine, feathered friend,
And Shadow too,
I think that we should investigate,
Making our own home brew.                                                    

Cheers from the Land of Oz

Thank-you Santa for your words,
You hit the nail on the head,
When it comes to all things good,
I'd rather see you instead,
Of that flippered, freakish turtle,
And his need to share,
He makes me sick the way he makes,
All those he visits care.
After much legal advice,
Ymir has been unnerved,
I had a court restrain him now,
The process has been served.
He is not now free to comment,
On the holiday subject,
Anything coming from the Poetry Bastards,
We can out of hand reject.
So, Santa we have one,
A splendid victory,
So can I come over to you,
And sit upon your knee?                                                    

The Easter Ymir Bunny

Haiku

do not constrain me,
with your arbitrary rules,
freeform is better

forego the cow meat
It is full of nasty things
eat the tasty fish

wind blowing softly,
stars bleeding through atmosphere,
moonlight dapples earth

Orphanage

  All assemble in that great receiving line
Each of us smiling, sparkling, seeking a sign.

I try to catch your eye, but no.
I bite my lip, and look to the ground, so.

Take me away, make me your own
A boy of potential, heart on spirit wings flown.

Yet you walk on, clutching your purse
I pray I pray to lift my curse.

From eye to eye, face to face,
Peering through your veil of lace.

And I am forgotten passed by
Naught but chores remain for me I cry.

Some other child may know your love
Not me, not me, my foolish heart,

a fluttering dove.

I am alone in this winter's day
No love for me, nothing to say.

Muted cloud green apple
sobs of filtered light
I smile wan, ever polite.

Screams

There are voices in my head, 
They have always been there, 
Ever since birth, 
Something said, 
"Yes or No" 
something said,                       

And I listened, 
Because it's me, 
They're my voices in MY head, 
Are you listening to what I said ?                       

They scream and cry with me, 
The sing me the songs from MTV, 
And yet they are me,                       

My rage, 
My fear, 
My insanity,                       

They are me, 
Leashed to me, 
I keep them away from anyone, 
They gnaw at my mind, 
They scream to be let out, 
To have, 
Their fun,                       

The make different from everyone, 
You think maybe I'm normal, 
And maybe I am, 
But what's it to anyone,                       

They scream and call out, 
They want me to do without, 
One just wants to make friends, 
He laughs with them, 
On his creativity control high, 
He just likes to have fun, 
He's zaney for laughs, 
But him on display for fun, 
He won't mind like anyone,                       

One just wants to scream and shout, 
He calls me to do battle without, 
But the enemies he fights are within, 
So those blows only strike him, 
He calls up visions to dance with, 
A thousand years ago in the flames of rome, 
He had his fun, 
He was the only one,                       

The third in this little trio, 
His name is rage and he wants to feel, 
The hate and fear of his savage heart, 
As he makes it pound with control, 
He has mastered himself, 
Into a corner without help, 
He wants to hurt other people, 
Make them feel the pain he feels, 
I never let him out,                       

Dispite their screams and shouts, 
I hate to let them out, 
Don't let me fool you, 
There are more you yet to hear, 
But don't let that stop you, 
Burn me at the stake of society, 
Burn them out of me, 
Take away my pain in that bright light, 
Transcendental without the trouble, 
Death and Life in one bubble                 

Haiku

I know no fishes
But they don't seem so happy
with lips on a hook

I feel empty inside
Empty
As if my soul,
slowing passing with my tears
Slowly
Getting empty inside
Lost
As if my path,
Being covered by growth
Covered
And loosing my way

Blind
As if my sight,
Getting dimmer each day
Darker
Without any light

I am not here
Gone
Only a seed
Lost in my memories
Past
Into the night

K.A.Stryker © 2000


ever and always
Me

Clown

I try
I try to understand
When you cry
When you cry I'd take your hand
And lead you away from the troubles
That have got you down
Maybe I'm just clown

My painted face
Just a disgrace
Juggling balls
Till the whole world falls
And you call me on then
And I don't know what to do when

You cry
When you cry I'd take your hand
And I try
I try to understand
Your sorrow and the troubles
That have got you down
But, baby, I'm just a clown

My oversized shoes
Didn't make the news
Telling jokes
Till the whole world chokes
And you call on me then
And I should know what to do when

You cry
When you cry I'll take your hand
And I'll try
I'll try to understand
Your sorrow and the troubles
That have got you down
But, baby, I'm just a clown

I have a notion
to set big things in motion.
The Result? No shun

Frustration

Fustration is in everyday life. Everyone is always gonna get pissed or angry about somethin'! Well I am here tell you, you can heal thy self. This is meant to be funny. If you don't think it's funny or anything, I'd still like to hear your opinion. I am writing about stuff in general. Like working really hard on business projects like slogans and such. Or heartbreak. Things like that. If you could ever set this song to punk music, I'd like you to blast it, or just imagine Limp Bizkit is singing it. I guarantee you'll feel better after reading it!
It was fun for awhile,
Till you decided to leave...
Me, a sharp dressed man,
For that a$shole Steve!
Now I'm gettin' angry!
Now I'm gettin' pissed!
I just put your name,
On my hit list!

Grrrr.....

Fustration!
It's making me shout!
Fustration!
Say it out loud!
Fustration!
They can't say please?
Fustration!
Put your mind at ease...

A project is due,
You write it a phrase...
You think its great,
It deserves a lot of praise...
You worked very hard,
You know you said it...
But some moron comes along,
And takes all of the credit...

Grrrr.....

Fustration!
Can I take a bat to your car?
Fustration!
Can I hit really hard???
Fustration!
Just wait till I'm sober!
Fustration!
Shouldn't have f*cked me over!

Your the last in line,
To buy your stuff...
It's 11 P.M.
And you look kinda rough...
But place closes down,
With the food in your arm...
They kick you out,
Now you're looking to do harm!

Grrrr.....

Fustration!
I had exact change!
Fustration!
Now I'm quite deranged!
Fustration!
I should took it anyway!
Fustration!
Then everything would be A OK!

Fustration! *echo*

"Writer's Sleep"

(authour's note: a lintball i threw together awhile back about writer's block. it's been modified a tiny bit and is now ready for board posting =P enjoy.)
"Writer's Sleep"
she is in the writer's sleep
she has been drained of her cre-ate-iv-it-y
'there is nothing left for me'
she says
'there is nothing left here for me'
and she tries to push away the pen,
her and her backwards tendencies,
she can hear these things that haunt her
her very own ghosts in the corridors in the back
of her mind. she does not mind.
'i am not suicidal, i am not hurting anyone,
i am not a bomb waiting to go off--
i would appreciate it
if you'd stop calling me such'
and somewhere near her there's this chanting
something running through the air
it's just something that runs through
the blood that runs through the veins
that run through the people round here
take it in - take it in - take in all that you can
push it out - push it out - release it all again
'just because we're lovers - does not mean we are not fighters
just because we're honest - does not mean we are not liars'
but it's just a blank mind
but it's just a blank page
she is deep
in the writer's sleep
wearing a simple sign
says Do Not Disturb Me
Less You've Found A Cure
For My Insan-- Misery
Or Have Another Hypo
Full of Creativity

Random utterence of wordart
projected for no reason
other, perhaps,
then for its own sake

So many thoughts


and. Emotions
running through ones head.
I cant quiet remember, what life was like
without it.

Counterpoint; (to what?) the deliberate structure of the words.
Encompassing rythm? Validating artyness?

Perhaps. No. More nessesary from the inside viewpoint.

One thing can be called obvious. The confusion that is meant from me.

Enough, I will have no more. Continue the original, and escape the knwoledge status quo.

A simple warning, degenrating into standard thinking patterns.

If the auther analyzes his own script, whilst it is being generated, does it loose its validity to the mire of critisim? Can wordart be art if every word is carefully constructed? Or must it flow. Flow without hinderence and mercy.

Lonely thoughts, self pereptuating emotion of doubt. What, will ever, thus it goes.

Then why not I say? Throw caution to the wind, and hopefully someone will pick it up and nurture it back to health, as it rightly deserves.

Ramblings? Hah. Defy. That is all I ask. Unless, perchance, I ask you something else

But this, is another story. For another time.


End poem.

Here.

The Unwashed have again set the standard,
Challenging international cultures,
We turn the dead into something useful,
We are society's vultures.
The latest foray into the dying,
Deals with the holidays,
Countries will soon see our point,
And the errors of their ways.
Take that jolly ol' Santa Claus,
He uses his cunning wiles,
To encourage children onto his lap,
He's one of them paedophiles.
Then there's the Easter Bunny,
Hey should pay for his sins,
We've all hear about the hare and the tortoise,
The tortoise always wins.
Which brings me to my next point,
One the world should heed,
The bunny and the dirty old man,
Encourage people's greed.
Where is the spirit of giving?
Why can't we simply share?
We need a new holiday icon,
To help us all to share.
Earlier I mentioned the deliberate tortoise,
A terrific to find,
But I left out the noble turtle,
Who's also true to his kind.
Thus, I present Bert the Turtle,
A hero to us all,
The present binary junta of greed,
Shall shatter and then fall.
Bert visits the boys and girls,
Who follow ethics so good,
But he encourages caring and sharing,
In our neighborhood.
Effort is the important thing,
Often that's all it takes,
Bert sees our humble humanity,
And that we make mistakes.
The bad people aren't forgotten either,
A present in his bag,
But forget that shiny gattling laser,
They get radioactive slag.
So, to here he's similar, but,
He sows the sharing seed,
He helps restore our human kindness,
And eliminates our greed.
For every present you ask for,
You give another three,
Thus, the sharing spirit has,
Been bestowed on thee.
He speaks of how to shield yourself,
From harmful radiation,
And though his teachings aren't correct,
He's now quite a sensation.
In black and white, both day and night,
He preaches, "Duck and Cover!"
And we gather round to join the fun,
Unlike most any other other.
The reel which spawned him still exists,
In the Atomic Cafe movie,
I suggest you rent it at the store,
And hope you find it groovy.
Night Owl's links page has a site,
Which extolls Bert's advice,
Just download it and take a break,
Then hear it once or twice.
It really is the crowning point,
Of the film on nuclear war,
And I hope they haven't sold it,
At your local rental store.
So listen to the turtle,
And hear his story well,
For at the next "Duck and Cover!"
He'll retreat inside his shell.                                                    

So, all hail the humble Bert,
Into the limelight hurled,
He's an icon that we can believe in,
An Unwashed gift to the world.                                                    

Cheers from the Land of Oz

Haiku

caffeine is poison
you need water, it is life
fish are never sad

dark circles

as it comes around again
I feel my heart feel blacken again
the coldness of guilt
the stains of blood
It'll never change
they say I must let it pass
but even after so long
it comes around again
Time is a healer they say
but what would they know?
they don't have the blood on their hands
I do

Haiku

Canadian train
Makes me late to get to work
I need more caffeine

Redemption unseeded destitute, dead.
Impervious feelings locked in my head.
My gage is on empty
Vacant within
Appeal to the masses
Anarchy, sin.
The act of forgiving, the act of hate
My shoulders are heavy, much on my plate.
I pray for some strength
Some help to be strong.
When our world does not differ
From right or wrong

Fanatics provoking harmony, peace
The world we fight for is only on lease
I laugh as the tears
They dry on my face
Tune out all the noises
Stare into space.

Beseeching for answers that will explain
Producing mass dreams to wipe out all pain.
We mass-produce clothing,
Mass-produce life.
Our feelings our cloned
Mass-produced strife.

K.A.Stryker 8/2000
hmmm...

*shrug*

There you were...a poem. :P

Ever and always
Me

Where was i
when the blood dried?
encrusted on my skin
crumbling from my clothes
spatters in the death throes,
I see in thrice visions
a twisted metaphor called life
I ponder simplicity divine,
wishing for visions more sublime
and a drink with kiwi and lime,
as I burn for eternal time,
shattered, scattered
lost within the rhyme
seeking the other half
of the two-piece jigsaw
puzzle called my soul,
before the embers
fade away to cold
to lifelessness
smouldering even as they cool,
fading like miniature
little suns,
as the stars in
the darkest night sky
fade with the foreshadowing
of dawn.

There is a story behind this. It goes: Today ive had a feeling. before music class began i began thinking about this feeling, and then words started flooding into my brain. I halfway panicked when i realized i hadn't got a pencil handy. Fourtunately, a friend in music class had one, and i manedged to catch the words before they escaped.
And actually, it was close that i wouldn't post it at all, i feel that this poem is somehow.. personal, well, moreso then my usual poems might be (even if they do indeed show sides of me) and also powerful.
Comments appriciated.  Poem delivered by Ninjas.
My Feelings/I feel
a strange emotion.
A thought of future things
Ponderings of the past
of my love, not unused but spread.
Not thoroughly unbiased but
almost equal in strenght.

Still the cold, the part untouched for ages
lies still within my soul.

One day I hope to meet someone
with such a love for me
and i hope that love will engulf me
and it will ignite the cold,
and burning lightning of emotions,
to strenghts tenfold
will wash from me unto my surroundings.

This will be my bliss, the liberation of my mind.

AriaMech, please heed my call,
As down the poetic path I hurtle,
I need some more information on,
Bert the Much Intriguing Turtle!
Give to me as much as you can,
Make it very short ar long,
Post the information here,
Then the poem won't be wrong.                                                    

Cheers from the Land of Oz

Haiku

Haiku may be poems
But not all poems are haiku
You need the format.

My love is a clock
Ticking, ticking it drains
for you, Berserker

Bittersweet Destiny

The picture that I have of you
Stays locked within my mind
You'd have me heart and soul
If only you weren't so blind

I must not say a word
How deep these feelings go
It's not my right to have them
But I have them even so

Watched and wondered, oh so long
What it feels like in your arms
Emotion overtook me
I felt so safe and warm

But that is not my life
Bittersweet destiny leading nowhere
Somehow you understand me
I go where angels do not dare.

"architects amongst the damned"

"if four walls aren't enough
we can make you five"
you say with a smile
as you paste up the sixth

"this design has a fatal flaw
without air holes i'll surely
suffocate
surely"

say i with a frown
as i throw myself against the walls
in an attempt to tear them down
but again i try too hard

"darling,
i can't hear you over the sound"
in my head
in my head

"the only place i ever am
is always this"
you make the next barrier
i down the next fifth

we will never get out
"we will never
get out
of this."

I wanna be your alarm clock

I wanna be your alarm clock, baby
Get you up every day
You say you don't like getting up, baby
Well, I know the perfect way

I'd run a hand through your hair
And kiss you gently on your cheek
I'd wake you up with a smile
Seven days, every week

Yeah, I wanna be your alarm clock, baby
Get you up every day
You say you don't like getting up, baby
Well, I know the perfect way

I'd snuggle in beside you
Waiting for the sun to rise
I'd wrap my arms around you
With a smile in my eyes

Oh, I wanna be your alarm clock, baby
Get you up every day
You say you don't like getting up, baby
Well, I know the perfect way

You're so cute when you're sleeping, baby
Beautiful in every way
I wanna be your alarm clock, baby
So I can see you every day

Yeah, I wanna be your alarm clock, baby
So I'm the first thing you see
I wanna be your alarm clock, baby
So I can wake up with you next to me

Oh, I wanna be your alarm clock, baby
Get you up every day
You say you don't like getting up, baby
Well, I know the perfect way

Camouflage

Like a soldier going into battle
Each layer is carefully applied.
Is the intent to deceive or expose?
Conceal or enhance?
The paints of the social artist's palette
Applied just so - pattern and order.
But is it camouflage or display?
Does it hide a truth which lies beneath,
Or is the act of disguise the true reality?
The colours are shown....
Camouflage to cover an attack?
Or to defend a retreat?
The war begins....

Christmas from the other side...

Christmas is a merry time
To run, have fun and play.
But hither comes that fateful eve
Today is not my day

2 years ago I was full of joy
With daughter, son and wife
The family went out that day,
left me to sharpen the knife

The axe was sharp, it had cut wood
that which I carried inside
My family had left that day
Gone on that fateful ride

Soon my fire was burning bright
its heat filled me with peace
I longed to see my family again
Darleen, Yvonne, and Reece.

The food was ready, the knife was sharp
And yet they did not return
I was worried totally sick that night
And the fire continued to burn

I awoke next morning with a fright
The fire was black and cold
I searched the house for my wife
My family was scarce as gold

I called the police, asked for a search
but most of them were home
I sat and started at their pictures
Silent and still as a gnome.

It took until the late afternoon
Thats when I recieved the call
A car had crashed into a tree
outside the local mall

I raced to the scene, but found nothing there
Except a crumpled car
It was Yvonnes, I wept aloud.
My ordeals end was far

They took me to the hospital
And into the morgue we strode
As they spoke I understood none
As if 'twas some alien code

There upon three cold slabs
My family were laid back, asleep
They asked, I nodded, I couldn't take it
I fell into a heap.

And so now, here I am,
Celebrating the day alone
My stare is lost within the fire
At the thoughts, I begin to groan

I had no friends, I had moved away
My family were all I had
So now, a hermit, sits alone
With no reason to be glad

So be careful driving out these nights
Stupidity is a don't
Enjoy these holidays with family and friends
One thing's for sure: _I_ won't

Be safe, people.
Lightning strikes this earth about 500 times a second, and you are roughly seven times more likely to die in a car accident than be hit by lightning.
Best wishes to all, and to all: several good nights

Sys, not a good mood

"On Writer's Block, the Sidewalk, and Me"

I step on the cracks
In the sidewalk
Because they're there; Because i can

Later i go home
I stare at a blank screen
And my fingers insist on typing

Just to watch the words bleed
Across the page
One after another

Forming an endless silken thread
That i never want to snip
That begs me

To leave it
To let it grow long
Like stands of my hair flowing

Down my back and around my waist
And brushing the cement
As i pull myself up

From the sidewalk
Where i have fallen
Over a seemingly harmless crack

Because i was not watching
Because it was there
Because it could

And would
Trip me up--it's just
Another knot in the thread

Loss again.....

What did I do to deserve my pain
what is this life I lead
you told me you were seeing someone else...
why after such a short time...

our time was short
a few weeks at most
we were even laughing this morning

but to see you with him
it just makes me cry
my heart has shattered like glass

Haiku

This is for haiku
Not your random poetry
Please stick to the rules

Eloquence is tough
when constricted by odd rules
I am not being harsh

Playing with Fire

A look so playful and full of fire
Dark eyes full of pure desire
When you're near, sweet music plays
You broke my will...please have your way

Not so very long ago, in a land not so far away
We bantered and played...never thought of you that way
With Winter winds you went away, how I missed you so
Then without notice, I looked, and you were there..
All you had to do was smile, no words you had to say

The first time that you touched me and my senses came alive
You left me wanting more of you, even just to hold me tight
Shivered me timbers and rocked my world with a simple kiss
I know what I would ask for, if I could have one wish

What every woman wants..someone thoughtful, gentle, kind
Lost track of times that we made love, but I kept that in my mind
For if you knew, you surely run, I've had these feelings for awhile
What I wouldn't give right now, just to see you're smile.

The pain is nagging, and it takes you a very long time to realize what it is.
Is it the actual object that pains you?

No, that isn’t it. You don’t know what it is but you can feel it.
You can feel the truth buried deep, but it is hidden away, and you can’t find it.

And one day, it just hits you.
The truth rushes onward and it washes over you like a strong current.

It’s not the object, it’s that you don’t have it.
That’s it.

Then you realize that it isn’t true.
You haven’t let the whole truth hit you yet.

Finally the real, whole truth reaches you.
It’s not that at all, it’s who DOES have it.

People just like you.
But you don’t have it.

And if someone gave you the object now,
It wouldn’t matter.

Because the others had it first.
They weren’t better than you.

But they were chosen first.
And you were ignored.

The pain hurts now more then ever.
It isn’t a nagging anymore.

It’s a sharp stabbing pain that goes away with time,
But in it’s place is an aching pain that will never go away.

And it hurts because you don't know.
You don't know why.

But it hurts none the less.
The truth hurts.

Another poem for class
But I figure I wrote it anyway, might as well display. Again not exactly my style, a little too formulaic, but this one's a little closer to the sort of stuff I usually do.

The one that got away

From high on my perch,
I surveyed the crowd;
A flash of brown hair attracts my stare,
And I swoop down from my father’s shoulders.
I was the eagle,
She was the osprey.

This social room in the church
Was my sunday school territory;
But since the day Beth came to my class
I’d devoted my cunning to another goal
I was the panther,
She was the prey.

I stalked through the room
Dodging inadverdent elbows
Seeking the only one there shorter than I
I careened around neighbors, coursed past the priest
I was the hound
She was the hare.

But I’d lost the sight
And never had her scent
My hunter’s instinct had gone awry
The social hour was ending
I was the wolf,
She was the moon.

Then I heard her quiet voice
Bared my fangs, and could said nothing
So she smiled, and left, and I smiled
And thought the world would end.
Slow-witted, I was a two-toed sloth
And she was a sparrow, aloft on the breeze.

I plodded back to my tree,
Took wing and crashed
Back onto my father’s shoulders
But as we moved into the street I shook my fur
Dropped to the ground, growled at a cat
I was a beast, and Beth- who’s that?

"Druggie's Paradise"

Locked tight inside the
tangled web of my mind,
I found a shelter from the cruel world
in a land hidden from the blind.

Paradise, I call it,
because of the relief and peace it gives me,
it's absense of pain, hatred, war, and the insane,
make life seem as it should be.

I descend into my paradise
whenever the pain gets beneath my skin.
How could a paradise of such great size from a needle
be such a sin?

But as I visit my paradise
and see my angels nightly,
I notice a change that's been happening on the outside
that to all the people that once loved me, has become unsightly.

My paradise has taken away all of me,
exactly what it has taken, I can't tell,
but no one can save me, the needle's in me,
too late i realized, that Paradise is hell.

I'm all for this wonderous holiday,
This festival of fun,
I'm already having a great time,
And it's only just begun!                                                    

To the Unwashed Marketing Department,
Get out your plans and fast,
Bert the Turtle shall be a demigod,
Don't let this opportunity past.
And Bert, I know you're reading this,
The ethics are my bag,
You can gice to someone else,
My ration of radiactive slag.
I think this year I have a thesaurus,
It would cause me joy,
One that can be integrated into,
My battered ol' PIPBoy.
For the kife a poet is dangerous,
Before a poem comes to fruition,
You need a handy supply of words,
To avoid inane repetition.
To avoid inane repetition,
You need a handy supply of words,
To avoid inane repetition.
If it's not too much trouble,
Please bring to me,
Some anti-spam deodorant,
Would cause so much glee.
I have procured some wonderous things,
For my treasured peers,
Ranging from caps and stimpacks,
To legs for overseers.
I've also got a stick sharpener,
For our diligent Doom,
Don't let on any of this,
Coz I'll surprise them soon.
                                                    

To contribute to the sumptuous feast,
I'll bring Oz's best,
Our world famous beers and such,
Will surely stand the test.
We have a large range of road kill,
Ready and on hand,
It's just so hard to catch the blighters,
I'm sure you understand.                                                    

On the subject of the rules you listed,
I don't want to cause a fight,
But can I possibly use them elsewhere,
Or, are they copyright?                                                    

Thanks for the inspiration,
It's a truly great idea,
Hang on, I've got to go,
I think that Bert is here!                                                    

Cheers from the Land of Oz

Haiku

Trouble brews, gods of
Chili are at war with gods
Of cheesy evil.

A hidden message?
Surely I'm too old for such
Sophomoric pranks.

While drifting through a daydream
Upon the stoop I sat
The realization of my insignificance
To that of the average ant

I do not have an army
My weight I cannot lift
So, really what's my purpose?
Through these thoughts I cannot sift

A light that beckons far away
Cast an eerie glow
Looks so peaceful and serene
Yet, I don't think I should go

The void that I call life
Only changes is in it's size
A vastness so indefinate..
The darkness of my mind.

Time

Time is infinite,
My patience is not,
How long must I wait here?
How long must I sit?

A call to say you’d be late,
Or even to cancel.
Something, anything
Nothing is a pain…

Yes, nothing is a pain
The fact nothings happening
Or the fact you treat me that way
Yeah nothing is a pain
Sums it up sweetly I think…

Haiku

So I miscounted
I apologize for my
indiscretion, mate

The requirements
were to post in Haiku form
Eat a bag of hell.

Even had Turjan trying to help me..
Thanks Turjan, your a sweety. :) *hug*
I tried to write a poem...even had a spectacular storm last night, and went and sat on my deck...trying to write something...
This is the longest I have gone without writing... :(
Anyway...this is what I got for my effort...

The night embraces me.
Surrounding me in loving arms,
Keeping me sheltered.
Safe from the light.
Light that reveals
The hard edges,
The cruel edges,
The edges that hurt.
K.A.Stryker

Well, didn't have much to do with a storm did it? Ack...you don't want to read the drivle I tried to write about the storm... :)

Ever and always
Me

Crushed

Crush
time in your
hand,
is it divine
or is it sand?
Does it bleed
or does it flow,
through your veins
or through your toes?
If it's in your hands
is it small,
or does size matter
not at all?
I look at thee
passionately
but it's like
looking at a wall,
and time stands still
as time stands tall
and from the pedestals
we always fall.
As time crushes
down on me,
my thoughts scatter
my breath flees,
my blood quickens
my blood freezes,
as the sand thickens
and the sand squeezes
my heart
through the hourglass
and my mind bleeds
as the hours pass
waiting for the dust
to settle
after the white flash

A poem for Slyvie:)
A tiny elvin creature
So cute and cuddly sweet
She brings us tea and cookies
To lay before our feet

We seldom take the time
To say thank you and we care
But she is very dear to us
A gem that is quite rare

Armed with tea and bunny slippers
Nothing shall get by
Please don't try to steal her cookies
For you'll be risking your own life

A wish for just a full nights rest
Uninterrupted bliss...
We miss our Lady Sylvin
...give that baby a kiss

*Hugs*

"acceptable"

everyone
in the entire world
wants to know the exact same thing

how are you doing in school
when's your next play
where are you going
to go to college

and make us proud
our last great hope
and i am afraid

to touch you
to tell you

the truth
nothing but
the truth
nothing but

the little person hiding
beneath the smiling
smiling shell

everyone
in the entire world
asks the exact same thing

and no one wants the answers.

Sometimes

Sometimes I feel
Sometimes I fall
Sometimes I kneel
Sometimes I crawl

And that's when I need her to tell me
That even when she's away, she's near

Sometimes I cry
Sometimes I bail
Sometimes I try
Sometimes I fail

And that's when I need her to hold me
And hear her soothing voice in my ear

Sometimes I run
Sometimes I shun

But even then she's there
Even when I seem not to care

But nothing could be further from
What I feel
Nothing could be further from
What is real

And that's when I need her to love me
And take away all my anguish and fear

Sometimes I don't know